Minecraft
by NotPaul
Summary: A young man found himself in an island with little population, and all seasons in one. He has to survive in this island with the others, while not knowing of who he is and why he was here. Can he do it?


_**Overworld**_

**Prologue**

* * *

Ragged breaths resounded in the dark environment, accompanied by fast footsteps along the tall grasses. A pair of sweaty hands kept pushing undergrowth and branches from their way, and blocky legs ran as fast as they can, trodding on the grassy dirt below them.

Don't look back. Don't stop. _Keep running.  
_  
Mixture of sweat and blood dripped to the trampled grass below, leaving red in its wake. The figure does not stop. _Keep running, keep running,_ the words- no, the command- resounded in his mind, telling him to stay awake at all costs, despite his heavy eyelids and faltering strength. Breath hitched, he kept running. Running to escape his death.

Shoving the last bushes blocking the way, the figure stumbled forward to find himself standing on a cliff. Seeing an opening, he gasped to catch his breath, his almost malnourished body shook from the strain of running and hiding for so long. Both his hands rested on his thighs before a sharp pang of pain hit him in multiple places. A hand instinctively went to the gaping wound at the side of his abdomen, and he let out a pained grunt. He also felt an ache on his left thigh and shoulder blade. Sweaty bangs stuck to his already pale face, and the figure closed his obsidian-colored eyes and hissed from the pain, dragging himself away from the forest growth to ease himself up.

His bliss was quickly replaced by fear and horror as loud baying of wolves could be heard. Tremor shook his entire worn body as alarms rang inside his head, telling him to run. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes wide in pure terror.

Before he could even register what to do, dark-colored wolves shot out from the bushes, crouching to a fighting stance. The figure looked from one wolf to another, now advancing at him, growling aggressively. He swallowed, trying to think straight, but he can't. His hand gripping the wound has gone numb, and he was not sure what to do.

Another rustle of fallen leaves, and another dark figure appeared from the forest. It left withering effect around him as he walked, and the living crossing his trail was dead and quickly degrading. The new figure stared at the latter, as he moved away. Wolves still growling at the shaking being, baring their white fangs.

Their eyes locked, and the other mouthed something inaudible, with shaking, chipped lips. The other stayed silent, but his mouth twisted into a terrifying grin, and turned away. Wolves, understanding the gesture, let out a loud howl and lunged at their victim.

The figure screamed as the wolves knocked him off his footing. One quickly lashed at his arm after he tried to protect himself. Unfortunately, another saw and opening and went for his exposed neck. A split second later, blood was gushing down his neck as he struggled weakly from its strong jaws. His limbs move slower now, and he was in the verge of choking on his own blood.

Is this the end?

No._ No_, this can't be.

_His work is not yet finished._

With his last ounce of strength, he positioned his leg under the wolf's stomach and kicked it off, sending it hurling to a tree. Upon contact, the tree crashed and quickly slammed down on the other wolves pinning him down. One snarled and threw itself at him, and he was intending to dodge before it slammed towards him. Before he knew it, he lost his footing, and he fell. Down into the cold and dark water below.

Before he hit the water, his world has gone black.

* * *

It was very dark.

He was not sure where he was, but all he knew was that his body felt numb and he could not open his eyes. He could barely hear anything. It was like he is underwater, submerging into the vast ocean.

That's it. He could have swore he's perfectly dead and gone.

How long was he like this? Maybe an hour; maybe a day; maybe forever. Maybe there is never an afterlife. Maybe the stories of the Aether and the Nether are just myths.

Well, that means he can rest easy, right?

He could not remember anything else, though. All he knows right now is he was hurt. Was. And he could rest easy now.

_'Wake up.'  
_  
He shifted a bit, breathing out unconsciously. No, no, just leave him be like this. The silence is beautiful. The darkness is calming. He just wanted to stop living, that is all. Can't he just have it? That peace people talk about after you're dead?

_'Your work is not over yet. You have to wake up.'  
_  
Again, he tried to ignore it. It felt so good to be dead. Then again, work? What work? He couldn't put a finger on whatever disembodied voice speaking to him.

_'Wake up. We, the Universe, need you. We need you to wake up.'  
_  
Suddenly, he could see a little white square. Is he opening his eyes without him knowing? Maybe. He doesn't want to move just yet, but the voice seemed so wary and it seemed so important he got curious himself.

The little white square in the sky slowly got bigger and bigger. It was light, and he could feel himself going- no, flying- towards it. He could not fight back. Still, when they told him to wake up, maybe he has to. They sound so urgent.

In utter resignation, he let go.

_'Wake up.'_

* * *

Slowly, he could hear something. Something so far away and he could not understand. Everything looked so murky as well. Cracking the tired eyelids open, strong beams of light entered his vision and he lolled his head to a side, squeezing his eyes and hissing as the pain flooded back. He felt very stiff and uncomfortable. Every muscle ached and oh how he hoped he could pass out again and forgot he was in terrible pain.

_'...look ... like... Awake...'_

He could not bring his mind to form the sentences the spoke. Everything was so hazy and painful, and the strong light stung his eyes so they hurt.

_'...get some... He needs...'_

The mumbling slowly became clearer. He could make out some audible words, and feel something warm touching his chest and neck. He wished he could tell them to turn the lights off, so he opened his mouth, but nothing came out but rasping, choked whimpers. He coughed weakly and swallowed, trying to ease his parched throat.

He almost flinched as something warm slowly made its way under his head and held it above the pillow. His neck throbbed and he felt dizzy instantly as he lost contact with the pillow. He winced, and retched. His stomach felt very uneasy and hurting. Nothing came out, though. Just air and a little bile, and that is not good.

He felt something cold against his lips and felt fresh water flowing into his throat. He has no idea to be grateful or not, because it made him felt a little better, and burned his throat at the same time. He coughed again, and the hand lowered him down and slipped away. He moaned from the aches and pain.  
_  
'...slow... Bad... gotta...'_

He couldn't hear the rest. He had passed out once more.

* * *

The next time he woke up, the light was dimmer. He could easily open his eyes without hurting them, and he let out a sigh. His eyes are bleary, and he blinked once or twice, hoping he would shake away the pain.

Both his mind and vision are still cloudy, so he decided he would just try and discern objects around him. He could see blocky shapes; nevermind, of course they are all blocky. Straining his tired eyes, he tried to make out several close objects. A dresser, bottles of water, a chest, a flower pot... There's also a glowstone lamp. He swore there was a window somewhere. Maybe the curtains were closed. He was not sure.

He moaned and looked down at his body. There was a sheet draped over it, but he could see some thick bandages across his upper torso. He tried to move a limb to no avail. He sighed, before tangled in a fit of raspy coughs.

Heavy footsteps could be heard outside before a person opened the door and stepped in. He could not make out his (or her) gender; basically because his eyes are too weak at the moment. He squinted and grunted in discomfort, and the person mumbled something before coming closer for his aid.

Turns out it was a male. He could not really figure his face out but he definitely has somewhat coal-colored hair and a hoodie as green as the creepers. The mysterious person loomed closer to him. He could tell the young man was concerned. He let out a sigh and the man pulled away from him. He was not sure why until he could feel the blanket was lifted up, and within seconds, his body was shivering with cold as the source of warmth was taken away.

He leaned back and whined, squeezing his eyes shut. It seems like that person is currently examining his wounds. His eyes flew open. How did he get hurt again? Why was he in this condition? Why was he here?

Suddenly, it flowed back to him. The wolves. The sneering person. The fall. The fall into the oceans-

The person jumped away as his patient suddenly jerked and looked around wildly, his breathing quickened. It was like he was on fire. He almost shoved the person away in his frenzy, before a strong grip held him in place, and he struggled.

"No! Stay still! Stay still, alright?! You are fine!"

_Fine_. He could hear it loud and clear. Fine. He is fine. He is safe now. He weakly let his arms fell to his sides before he eased up, head hung low. The person slowly loosened his grip on him, and lowered him to the bed underneath him, careful not to hurt him. He sucked some air into his lungs and sighed.

"We found you- I mean, me and my buddies- lying on the shoreline, bleeding all over. At first we thought you're gone, because zombies start poking at you. We heard you cough and... here you are."

The patient blinked. What happened again? He was not sure. He could not even remember. But he was shaking quite hard from the sudden pictures and he shook his head, trying to ease the dizziness.

"You were lucky you're alive. Very lucky. The bite marks aren't even touching the artery, and although you bleed like the rivers, we managed to deal with it using splash potions," the young lad sounded proud with his deed, pouring another glass of water. "Don't worry, this house is mob-free, so you can count on us with that."

The other was silent. So many questions racing inside him, but in this state, he could not even move. He could just lie down with an empty stomach and a body almost torn apart. He winced once more as the blurry figure raised his head once more to help him drink.

"Kami's making some warm mushroom stew for you." The figure informed, placing his head back on the soft pillow. "As far as I know, no mushroom stews upset your stomach."

The other stared at him, blinking, and he forced a small nod. His neck was hurt to move, and he felt awfully tired.

Meanwhile, the rescuer has turned his back on him to get new bandages. The blood on the side of his neck was almost leaking out, and he sighed. Why doesn't the splash potion working well on this man? It does not make sense. Even they work on his horse. He turned back at him. "This will hurt a bit," he warned the stranger. "I'm gonna change your bandages."

The stranger said nothing and allowed his helper to redo the bandages. He was not fussing. Most probably because he's out of energy already. Some of the blood had clot, sticking to the bandages, so he tried to get them off as slowly and carefully as he could, or the wounded person would be in more pain and reopened the almost fatal wound, and nobody would want that to happen.

After the bandages were undone, he took a cloth and soaked it in a basin of warm water he had prepared beforehand, and started to wipe away the wound. The patient hissed from stinging pain, and he arched his back from the pain. After he was cleaned and dried, his helper looked at the other's neck to see his extent of injury. A clean set of dots were surely a bite mark of something. Maybe an ocelot? Zombie bites are more lethal and shorter than this. Maybe a wolf. It must be a huge wolf, he frowned. This bite mark is huge. Could this person harassed a wolf and anger it? He shook his head and re-bandaged the wound.

"What happened to you?"

The victim could not utter a single word. Instead, he mouthed something, eyes void of all emotions. The other person only realized he was mouthing an answer as he turned to see him, and read his lips as he repeated the words.

"Black wolves?" He frowned. "There were no such things in this area. Maybe you came from a different island?"

A nod. Probably means 'maybe'.

"I see..." The other's face turned serious. "It must have been a terrible experience… And it seemed like Notch is with you. You must have been very lucky, then. This island might be huge, but it's very much isolated. If I counted right, maybe there are just 8 people here. Not only you survived floating all the way here, but also found and being saved before you're dead."

The other closed his eyes. Well, he was very lucky to be alive, then.

"...I know this is not the time to ask but... Who are you? What happened?"

Obsidian eyes fluttered open in realization. Who am I? Why am I here again? He frowned. No, he could not remember. How can this be? He did remember some images. He did remember why he was injured like this, but why? And who is he? Who is he that he has to deserve this?

The other was awestruck to see his patient's face scrunched up in frustration. Does that question bother him so much?

"I-I am terribly sorry. You can forget what I said." He stammered, turning away.

A hand tugging at his hoodie made him turn back. The person was looking at him, confusion and stress swimming in those dark irises. That is when it struck him. He forgot? Maybe the shock had driven him amnesiac. He sighed.

"I don't know who you are... I am sorry. That is why I asked on the first place."

The hand slipped from the green fabric as the other closed his eyes, face still frustrated. They said names reflected their personality, their own self. Without a name, who would he be? Sorrow dulled his pain.

"I'm sorry... I wish I can do anything to help. Maybe guessing your name will make you feel better?"

He felt something click. He heard that statement before, somewhere... A person was laughing. He swore he was putting up an annoyed face as he pushed his companion away. He said something.

"...My... Nam...e..."

The other snapped his head back at the wounded person as he shivered, trying to remember.

"...My name..." He said hoarsely, turning at his helper. "...is... not Paul."

* * *

**Alright, this is my Minecraft-based original fic. I know there aren't any Steve or Herobrine or others just yet, but it's great for you to actually read this story.**

**Basically, this is what I made from my friend's server, which I am currently playing in. **

**For grammar errors, I am sorry. I am not a native english speaker. **

**NotPaul is mine**

**Guy in green hoodie's my friend Nick's**

**Kami is Ookami13's**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Reviews will be appreciated.**


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